


You Can't Go Home Again

by Triskellion



Series: NCIS Home Pack [19]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Episode: s04e03 Singled Out, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-07
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 08:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/404287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triskellion/pseuds/Triskellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU but following canon events: Tony has to confront Gibbs about what he's forgotten eventually, but maybe Gibbs is tired of waiting him out.  This scene takes place between the last two scenes of Singled Out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ok, everyone has been waiting for the post Hiatus confrontation between Tony and Gibbs, including me. This has been sitting on my hard drive for ages waiting for it's turn. However, it's long, longer than anything else so far, and as I was writing it insisted on dividing itself into three parts. So, here is the first part of that confrontation.

Title: You Can't Go Home Again - Part 1  
Series: [Home](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/82075.html)  
Author: [](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/profile)[**triskellion**](http://triskellion.livejournal.com/)  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 1615  
Spoilers: Singled Out  
Warnings: It's slash, but you won't see that here  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, pretty as I find them. Go to the producers if you want to talk money.  
Summary: AU but following canon events: Tony has to confront Gibbs about what he's forgotten eventually, but maybe Gibbs is tired of waiting him out. This scene takes place between the last two scenes of Singled Out.

The elevator was silent, unnervingly so. The case was done, the girl saved in the nick of time, and all that was left was the reports. DiNozzo should be rattling on at a mile a minute, about his plans, his girls, something, anything. At least, Gibbs thought he should. It could be another example of his faulty memory. Except he knew that itch between his shoulder blades meant he was being watched, and there was no one else in the elevator to be doing the watching.

Ever since he returned, even to visit, Tony had been ... different. Sure, some days he wasn't even sure he knew the man, but it was hard to tell if that was because of the holes that still shifted randomly through his memories or because there had been enough of a change in the man that it was possible to say Gibbs really didn't know Tony anymore. Either way, the last week had been winding him up for some reason, and it all had to do with this man.

“Enough,” Gibbs snapped, slapping the emergency stop and turning around as the lights switched. Tony looked back at him blankly, that damned mask that he had been using more and more. “What?”

“You tell me,” Tony replied blandly. “You called this conference.”

“You've been staring holes in my back all week. You run hot and cold, like you don't even want me back even as you make cracks about how you can't understand why I left. Hell, you hugged me the first time I came into the office, and now you can't seem to wait to get away from me. What is wrong with you?” Gibbs felt his hand itch to reach out and slap the back of Tony's head, but he resisted. That was supposed to be a wake up, but right now Gibbs didn't need his senior field agent to wake up, he needed the younger man to talk.

“At first, I thought, just maybe, you'd come back for me,” Tony snapped. “At least in part. However, it's been quite obvious that is not the case.”

“For you? Ziva called me. Why would I have come back for you?” Gibbs asked in utter confusion, begging for an explanation with his expression.

Tony ignored it all, just asking, “How much do you really remember?” and leaning back against the wall nonchalantly. “Sometimes you look like you remember everything, but then you call Ziva Kate, or me McGee, or just do something out of character. Like this.”

Gibbs crossed his arms and glared. It didn't feel quite the same with the mustache, but he wasn't quite the same, hadn't been since that bomb blast blew his memory all to hell. “Are you saying I can't do the job?” Gibbs growled. He didn't like the implied criticism, but at the same time it was comforting to know someone was paying enough attention to notice. But why this man, this playboy? He remembered the flirting, the screwing around, the playing games. Sometimes he didn't understand why he'd kept the man on so long. And yet ... when the chips were down, he knew this man had his six, would take care of the team, would get the job done.

“Nope,” Tony replied with a levity that didn't reach his eyes. Those were hard, angry, and at the same time disturbingly lost. “The job you seem to do just fine, if a bit differently. It's everything else I wonder about.”

“What right do you have to question me about anything beyond the job?” Gibbs asked incredulously. Tobias might, Jen might, but there was history between them and him.

Tony's eyes widened, their green depths suddenly seeming filled with sadness. “You don't remember, truly don't remember,” he whispered, sounding heartbroken.

“Don't remember what?” Gibbs asked, about ready to explode from the frustration and confusion building within him.

“Doesn't matter,” Tony said flatly, his face suddenly blank. However, no matter how he tried there was no hiding the sense of pain and loss radiating from him. Tony stepped forward and hit the emergency stop switch, facing the elevator door as though he hadn't a care in the world as the small room resumed its motion.

“The hell it isn't,” Gibbs growled, slapping the switch almost as soon as Tony's hand was out of the way. The elevator jerked to a stop again and Gibbs grabbed Tony by the shoulder, turning the younger man to face him. “What is going on with you?”

“What the fuck does it matter to you?” Tony snarled back, his teeth bared in a way that echoed oddly in Gibbs’ memories. “You left, and I picked up the pieces as best I could. Now you're back, and maybe I'm sick of picking up the pieces.”

“Is this about taking the team back?” Gibbs asked, confused. He felt like there were two levels to the conversation, and he was only picking up on one. “You did a good job. Jen agrees. It's in no way a reflection on your ability.” Normally he wasn't one to explain, but today he felt he needed to. He knew McGee's words earlier had wounded the younger man.

“Oh, I know that,” Tony said sarcastically. “Though the rest of the team made it readily apparent quite regularly that they disagree. Can't argue with the solve rate though, even without your gut.”

“Then what is the problem?” Gibbs asked angrily. He took half a step forward and was impressed when Tony stood toe to toe, refusing to back down. Tony bared his teeth again, and Gibbs got an odd impression of Shannon with that same expression.

“You don't remember,” Tony snarled back. “Or maybe you never actually understood.” The latter was spat out in such a tone of disgust that Gibbs recoiled slightly.

“Remember what?” Gibbs yelled, almost begging for the younger man to explain. “There's a lot I don't remember, all right. There, I admitted it, I don't remember. I didn't remember Ziva until she confronted me. I didn't remember Mike until he talked to me. I didn't remember Serbia until after Jen asked. I don't remember this, so remind me.”

Tony took a deep breath, his eyes catching Gibbs' before skittering away and fixing themselves on the wall. “You remember Kate?” he asked distantly.

“Yes,” Gibbs replied harshly.

“And how she died?”

“Ari killed her. Ziva reminded me of that before I left. Is there a point to this?”

“And you 'killed' Ari,” Tony continued, making little finger quote marks at the word killed. Gibbs wondered when the younger man had realized the truth, but he said nothing. “Do you remember what happened when we got back from Kate's funeral?” Those green eyes bounced back to bore into his. It felt as though Tony was willing him to remember something.

Gibbs took a deep breath and shut his eyes, trying to remember, but also to escape that expectant look. But no matter how hard he tried, he could remember the race to the funeral, comforting Abby, but after that ... “Nothing specific ...” An image of a brown dog lying on a familiar leather couch caused his brows to furrow. “Do you own a dog?” He'd seen that memory before, he was pretty sure, or others like it. He could remember the feel of fur under his fingers, see that same dog sitting under his boat. Wait? Was it a dog?

His focus was broken by Tony's pained laughter. “You thought so once,” he hissed between gasps.

Gibbs opened his eyes and looked at his senior agent, really looked. He took in the spiky brown hair and the haunted green eyes, the long rangy stance covered in overpriced clothes, and he remembered those bared teeth from earlier. It was important, a connection. Shannon had had that exact same look when she was angry, like a snarling wolf.

Shit! Like a wolf!

“You're a shifter,” he gasped. That was Tony lounging under his boat, getting sawdust in his fur. “I never realized there were two ... Shannon used to lounge under the boat the same way.”

For a moment, Tony's eyes lit up with hope, but the light died completely as soon as Gibbs mentioned Shannon. The younger man looked like he had been sucker punched. He gasped twice, his expression so pained that Gibbs was terrified he was going to expire there in the elevator. Somehow, he pulled himself together, his eyes hard and somehow broken. “Then there's no excuse,” he hissed, his hand flashing out to slap the emergency stop switch.

This time, Gibbs didn't try to stop him, didn't flip the switch back. He let the elevator rise, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Tony was a shifter, like Shannon, like a number of other men and women he'd know. Tony was his second, his senior agent, his ... There was more, but it was still out of reach and he was running out of time. He could feel time slipping away, and if he didn't do something, the right thing, he was going to lose Tony, and somehow he knew that would break him.

The doors opened, and Tony took several steps into the bull pen before Gibbs found his voice. “Tony,” he called desperately. The younger man froze but did not turn back. “You're still my second,” he said firmly. Tony seemed to hesitate a moment more before striding on, past his desk and up the stairs to the Director's office.

Gibbs sighed as he let the elevator carry him back down. He could only hope that was enough to borrow some time for him to figure out whatever it was he was still forgetting.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU but following canon events: Tony has to confront Gibbs about what he's forgotten eventually, but maybe Gibbs is tired of waiting him out. Later that night ...

Title: You Can't Go Home Again - Part 2  
Series: Home  
Author: triskellion  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 2243  
Spoilers: Singled Out  
Warnings: It's slash, but you won't see that here  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, pretty as I find them. Go to the producers if you want to talk money.  
Summary: AU but following canon events: Tony has to confront Gibbs about what he's forgotten eventually, but maybe Gibbs is tired of waiting him out. Later that night ...

 

It was after one in the morning when Gibbs knocked on the door to Tony's apartment, but he knew his senior field agent was awake. After the efforts of the day and their argument earlier, there was no way Tony was going to be able to sleep. That, and Gibbs had called the office and security had told him that Tony had just left. He always did do his best work late at night, that Gibbs had not forgotten.

When Tony opened the door, it was clear that he had known who was on the other side. His body language was defensive, and Gibbs wondered whether he really should try and push things on Tony's territory. Then again, where else would Tony feel safe enough sending his boss, his alpha, packing if necessary?

“May I come in?” Gibbs asked politely, his eyes down cast, unchallenging, as he held up the six pack of Tony's favorite beer. Only a minimum of saw dust was scattered across the top. Realizing why he keep spare beer in the basement had been one clue to getting his memory back.

“I'm not sure,” Tony replied, shifting slightly to further block the door.

“I just ... there are a few things I should say, that you should hear, but preferably not in the middle of the hall. If you send me packing after that, you're well within your rights.” He held out the beer, resisting the urge to stare the shifter down. “This is yours either way.” He wanted to be holding himself out rather than the beer, but that was pushing things as they stood now. And demanding entrance ... well, he knew he could do it, but that wouldn't win the younger man back.

“You're bribing me with beer now?” Tony asked, his tone more playful. But still he blocked the door.

“Just seemed polite,” Gibbs replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

Tony let out a huff of air and rolled his eyes, but this time he stepped back and waved Gibbs in.

Once the door was securely shut behind him, Gibbs let out a sigh of relief. One hurdle down. He offered one beer to Tony, which he accepted, took one for himself, and put the rest in the fridge. When he returned to the living room, Tony flipped open the pizza box on the table and grabbed a slice from the half eaten, cooling pizza. Taking the invitation, Gibbs grabbed a slice for himself and closed the box before settling into the recliner, leaving the couch to the still edgy looking Tony.

Silence reigned for the next ten minutes, broken only slightly by the sounds of chewing and drinking. Finally, Tony turned to Gibbs with a look that screamed 'get on with it.'

“After Kate's funeral, I came over and found you sleeping on the couch, that couch, in wolf form,” Gibbs said. He took a deep breath. It had been difficult dragging these memories out of the black hole of oblivion in his head, not because of their content but because of what it said about him that he had forgotten. “You tried to resign, and I told you that you were my second. Then I offered you more than I offered my last three wives, and there is no excuse for having forgotten.”

“No,” Tony said darkly, his eyes fixed on the bottle of beer he was rolling between his hands.

“Why didn't you come after me?” Gibbs asked. It was the first question that had hit him after the memory did. Tony stayed silent, so Gibbs continued. He needed to know. “You weren't at the hospital, never came to the house. We were mates. Why didn't you say something?”

Tony looked up and growled. “What was I supposed to say?” he asked harshly. “I came to the hospital while you were still in the coma. After that, the case was too hot. I'm your second. That meant I was in charge. Why didn't you come to me in the hospital when I got the plague?”

Gibbs sighed and dropped his own gaze. “The case was hot. The note said there was a cure, so I kept looking for it. Once there was nothing else to look for, I came.”

“And ordered me not to die,” Tony said sarcastically.

“Even before I knew why, I knew you'd never disobey,” Gibbs said, a slight smile on his lips. “It was hard staying away ...”

“Yes,” Tony replied, complete comprehension in his voice.

“But in the end I came,” Gibbs countered.

“In the end, you came to us,” Tony replied, slouching back into the couch. “And you didn't remember. You called me McGee and went charging up to MTAC. I didn't know what to say and certainly couldn't say anything before the entire team. But you left orders, and that I could deal with ... I'd hoped that in a day or two I could have come to the house ... we could have sorted it out. But you were gone.”

“How long did it take Abby to find me?” Gibbs asked, still not quite getting the answers he wanted. 

Tony chuckled, but it was not a joyful noise. “Less than an hour,” he admitted. “I almost booked a ticket out that weekend.”

“Why didn't you?” Gibbs asked, his newly discovered anguish plain in his voice.

“Because you left,” Tony snarled back. “Because I didn't know if you remembered or not, if you didn't care, if you were so lost in memories of your past pain ... I did the only thing I could think of, picked up the pieces and soldiered on. You left them to me, remember. 'They're your team now.' I thought staying with them was what you'd want.”

Gibbs covered his face with his hands, pushing sharply against his temples and tugging at his hair. His gray hair. Sometimes that still threw him when he saw himself in a mirror. Sometimes Shannon and Kelly were closer to the surface than anyone else in his life. But there had always been wolves chasing around in his dreams—he just hadn't realized there was a new one. “I thought I needed distance. I was broken, confused. What use would I have been at NCIS?” he snapped as he fought the urge to chuck his nearly empty beer bottle across the room. “If you'd come, maybe ...”

“We'll never know now,” Tony interrupted. 

Rubbing at his cheeks again, Gibbs sighed. “No, we won't,” he admitted, though it felt as though every word was dragged from him. “The question is: what now?” He looked up hopefully, trying to catch Tony's eye.

“I don't know,” Tony replied, his frustration clear in his voice, his eyes fixed on the wall behind Gibbs. “I got used to being in charge, but really, it wasn't me.” He let out a frustrated huff of air. “Everyone just kept complaining that I was trying to be you, but since I wasn't ... it never seemed to be enough.”

“You don't have to be like me to be a good leader, Tony,” Gibbs said reassuringly. “You have your own way of leading. I ... may not have been as supportive as I could have been, but what I saw impressed me. You deserve your own team” Gibbs didn't miss the hint of red that bloomed on the tips of Tony's ears.

“So maybe I can do it,” Tony said shyly. “But I'm not sure I want to. Some shifters are born alphas, some aren't. I thought I'd always be a lone wolf, but ... I like working under you, boss, being your second. It ... it fits. That's why ...” He hesitated, and Gibbs considered saying something, anything, but Tony finally spoke again before Gibbs figured out what. “Jen offered me a team, in Rota. I said no.”

“God, Tony. Why?” Gibbs asked, suddenly realizing that was what Tony was going to talk to Jen about earlier. Rota should have been like a dream come true, and with his own team thrown in ...

“Because my pack is here,” Tony snapped. “Fucked up as it is, this is where I belong. And even with you leaving ... you're everything I ever wanted in an alpha. I couldn't let that go. Not yet.”

“It could be years before an opportunity like this comes up again,” Gibbs pointed out, pride in his second's abilities waring with relief that he wasn't going to lose the man yet.

“I'll turn it down then too,” Tony said firmly. “I don't want my own team, especially if it means leaving.”

“Someday I'm going to retire again,” Gibbs said, continuing to play devil's advocate. “I can't stop aging. What then?”

“It depends,” Tony said hesitantly as he hunched uncomfortably forward. “I might ... leading the team in your place might be okay ... just don't make me the alpha. If you're still here ...”

Gibbs stood and strode to the couch. He wanted to take Tony into his arms, but he would not take liberties, not now, so he settled for sitting next to Tony and clasping the shifter's hands in his own. Tony needed some physical contact to anchor him. “If you want me, I'm here. I'll stay. I may have forgotten before, but I know now, my pack is here.” He couldn't express how much he regretted forgetting that, and he damned well intended to make sure he didn't forget again.

“I'm not sure I'm worthy to be in your pack anymore,” said Tony in a pained whisper, an odd shiver running through him.

“Why?” Gibbs asked flatly. He didn't make it an order but let the implication ride. His second was hurting, and that was unacceptable. He didn't like the sudden attitude shift at all.

“Jenny ... Director Shepard ...” Tony began awkwardly. He coughed and tried again. “I'm not an alpha, and with you gone I found myself looking for someone to follow. She asked me to do some undercover work, keep it secret.”

“I understand the chain of command,” Gibbs said reassuringly, though what he wanted to do was growl. Tony had just promised to stay, so it was hard to hear he'd been looking to anyone else, and even harder to hear it was Jenny. He'd been fighting her attempts to manipulate and control his team, his pack, for almost a year before running off to Mexico. Another thing that had been frustrating to remember, all too late.

“When you were gone, it felt like a way to impress my alpha,” Tony admitted, his body shaking hard. “But with you back ... it feels like a betrayal.”

“Tony,” Gibbs said confidently, switching his grip to Tony's face, gripping it firmly with just a little extra pressure against the jaw, pulling the shifter's head up until their eyes met. He could see it was the contact that let Tony react, but it was also contact that could anchor him enough to calm down. “It is not a betrayal,” he said sharply in his best 'I'm the boss' voice. He didn't want to say this, but he would not see one of his fail to finish an assigned task. He hadn't permitted it in the corps, he wouldn't permit it here.

“You finish this job. Do it right. You're a damned good investigator and an incredible undercover agent. That's why you're my second. So finish this. Take that as an order.” His thumbs slid down as Tony swallowed hesitantly, pressing lightly but firmly against the younger man's neck. “But if you need anything, from an excuse to backup, you let me know. That's an order too.”

Tony didn't nod, just tilted his head further up, and a touch to the left, leaving himself open, exposed, submitting to his alpha.

Gibbs stroked Tony's neck lightly before he retreated, pulling his hands back and standing up. He needed distance if he was going to continue talking. Just being this close to Tony was bringing a lot of old memories to the surface, memories he wanted to relive. But that wasn't fair to Tony, not yet. “There were a few other things I meant to tell you when I came over here,” he said softly, still standing, waiting.

“I'm not sure I'm ready to hear them,” Tony admitted, slowly dropping his head. “It's been a hell of a night.”

“That it has,” Gibbs said sadly, his head hanging slightly. He wanted ... God, he wanted Tony back, but he didn't dare ask, not now. There were things Tony had the right to hear first, should have heard before.

“We working tomorrow?” Tony asked, yawning widely.

“Shouldn't be,” Gibbs said. “We just closed one, and Riviera's team is on call.”

“Go home, get some sleep,” Tony suggested, standing and stretching out. Gibbs fought the urge to reach out and run his fingers along those lean sides. “I'll come over with lunch. We can talk more then.”

“Fair enough,” Gibbs said, looking away before he did something he shouldn't. He should have walked away, turned and gone, and yet he felt as though his feet were nailed to the floor.

“Go home, boss,” Tony said with a soft growl, taking half a step closer.

That seemed to loosen Gibbs' feet, and he took a step back. “Good night, Tony,” he said softly, and forced himself to turn and leave.

Just as he reached the door, he heard Tony softly say, “Thank you, boss.” Gibbs turned back and just gave his second a soft smile before he closed the door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU but following canon events: Tony has to confront Gibbs about what he's forgotten eventually, but maybe Gibbs is tired of waiting him out. The next day ...

Ok, there's actually going to be a part 4 of sorts, the idea hit me yesterday and I'm mostly done with it. But don't worry, part four is after everything has been settled, tying up a few loose ends and discussing the fact that Abby knows. So hopefully that will be ready for tomorrow. 

Hopefully, this is the conversation you have all been waiting for.

Title: You Can't Go Home Again - Part 3  
Series: Home  
Author: triskellion  
Rating: PG  
Word Count: 4547  
Spoilers: Singled Out  
Warnings: It's slash, but you won't see that here  
Disclaimer: They're not mine, pretty as I find them. Go to the producers if you want to talk money.  
Summary: AU but following canon events: Tony has to confront Gibbs about what he's forgotten eventually, but maybe Gibbs is tired of waiting him out. The next day ...

The clatter of footsteps on the basement stairs woke Gibbs up. He craned his head up to peer out from under the frame of the boat, his back protesting at having slept on the boards again. It was Tony thundering around, a bag of something that smelled good in his hand.

“Morning, boss,” Tony called cheerfully. “You get any sleep?”

“Some,” Gibbs said, then let out a grunt as his head fell back to the board.

“You know, your bed is a lot more comfortable than your basement,” Tony teased, setting out the food he'd brought on the work bench. 

“I think better working on the boat,” Gibbs said with a groan as he tried to roll over. His body felt as stiff as the board under him, and he was so focused on trying to make his body move, he missed Tony moving until the younger man was looming over him.

“Need a hand, boss?” he asked, teasing, and yet polite.

Gibbs considered telling Tony where to shove the hand he proffered, but his back won out over his pride and he accepted the assistance. Once he was upright and stable on his own, he let out a small grunt that was a close as he could manage to 'I'll be back in a minute.'

“There's coffee for you when you get back,” Tony called after his retreating back. 

Damn, that man knew him too well. Then again, most everyone knew better than to face Gibbs without coffee. He could still remember the look on Kate's face when she spilled his coffee, his fresh cup of coffee, knocking it from his desk. She and Tony had been walking on eggshells for the rest of the morning, waiting for him to completely blow up. At least she had managed to procure a decent replacement cup, eventually.

It was nice that remembering those days was starting to make him smile again. For too long, memories of Kate were buried in sadness and guilt because of how she'd died. He could thank the last explosion for a change in perspective on that. Hell, that explosion had given him a change in perspective on a lot of things, just not all of them were such good changes. 

When he made it back to the basement, Tony shoved a large cup of coffee in one hand (God, that went down well) and a cup of sweet and sour soup in the other.

“Chinese for breakfast?” Gibbs asked dryly once his brain started firing on most of the cylinders. That is, after he'd knocked back about half of the coffee. He snagged the office chair from the corner and, ignoring the sawdust covering it, sat down.

“Well, if you'd actually gone to sleep, in a bed, when I sent you home, this would be lunch,” Tony pointed out, digging happily into his box of chow mein with a fork, leaning against the work bench in a pose that Gibbs found oddly erotic. He squashed that thought.

“One of these days you should learn to use chopsticks,” Gibbs grumbled. Once he finished the coffee and the soup, he might be ready to tackle whatever else Tony brought. Smelled good, at least.

Tony shrugged. “Just one of those things that never clicked, no matter how much I wanted to show off to Kate.” He grinned, but his tone was a bit defeatist. Gibbs considered several responses, but before he could speak, Tony continued. “I miss that, you know,” he said longingly. “Teasing Kate, being elbowed in the ribs, the way we used to discuss cases over Chinese late into the night. Ziva's good, but it's not the same.”

“No, it isn't,” Gibbs said sadly. He remembered that feeling of familiarity, of companionship, from his days in the corps. He hadn't found it at NCIS, not the same way, until he picked up Tony, and even more so after he'd collected Kate. They'd just all fit. Maybe that should have told him something sooner. After all, he used to collect shifters back in the corps, whether he wanted to or not. “Ziva can actually keep up with you.” 

Tony snorted and shook his head. “Perhaps, but in some ways she doesn't have a clue. Kate, however, I sometimes wondered if she knew,” he said, seemingly reading Gibbs' mind. “Sometimes she just fit right into the pack dynamic so well.”

“And other times she kicked up a fuss over the littlest thing,” Gibbs pointed out. “She wasn't a shifter.”

“No, she fought you too much,” Tony said with a wry grin. As much as he fought and pushed the boundary, when the chips were down, Tony followed his alpha. Kate never quite caught onto when to refuse and when to just listen. “But she made a hell of a bitchy sister.”

Gibbs laughed. The image fit, oh so well. “She would have skinned you for saying that.”

“Yeah,” Tony said, grinning wildly. “But it would have been so worth it. Just like the picture.”

“What picture?” Gibbs asked, not sure if he didn't remember or if he'd never been told this story.

Tony laughed, doubling over in amusement. “Oh Lord,” he gasped between peals of laughter. “You remember when I took a weekend trip to Panama City?”

Gibbs leaned back into the chair, digging through the musty, holey files in his head. “After that case with the dead petty officer in a bikini contest?” he asked, trying to sort out his mental timeline.

“That's it,” Tony said, still grinning madly though the worst of the laughter was under control. He hopped up on the work bench, swinging his legs childishly as he spoke with matching glee. “I found a wet t-shirt contest hall of fame in one of the bars down there with Kate on it.”

“From her college days?” Gibbs asked, eyebrow raised in disbelief. He remembered a solid, staid worker who abhorred her coworker's excesses, at least publicly.

“Exactly,” Tony said jubilantly. “I got a copy and brought it home. Kate about emasculated me in the office that day. Of course, she started it by telling everyone my pledge name.”

“I bet,” Gibbs muttered, shaking his head. “You should have known better, sex machine.” Tony groaned, which made Gibbs smirk. “Then again so should have she.”

“She got me back,” Tony said, shaking a finger at his boss. “Had Abby paste my head to some hunk in a gay porn type shot. When she emailed it to me I about lost it.”

Gibbs let out a snort of disgust, then thought hard. “Wait ... I think I remember. You two emailed copies to me?”

Tony looked sheepish. “Yeah ... kind of a last revenge thing, only we both did it. I talked to Abby later, and she promised to make everything disappear.”

“I think I might still have copies somewhere,” Gibbs said thoughtfully, fighting a broad grin as he looked at the uneasy shift of Tony's shoulders. “I never said a word before ...”

“No, boss, you didn't,” Tony conceded.

“Made for an interesting evening surprise,” Gibbs added, this time letting some of his amusement through. Actually, his eyebrows had about crawled off his head in surprise. “Very pretty. Though your shot was obviously fake.” Tony shot him a curious look. Gibbs leered back. “You're furrier than that.” He grinned as the tips of Tony's ears went red. “But you didn't need to talk to Abby. I had a few contacts sanitize the matter right after. Didn't want either of you getting into trouble.”

Tony looked surprised. “You know people who can sanitize files other than Abby?”

“Military attracts a lot of shifters, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said dryly. “Don't Ask, Don't Tell works fine as long as you don't slip up, but there are a lot of shifters around. If you do blow it, there are a few officers in every branch of the military who spend time making such things disappear. They're a little cranky about working things out for NCIS, but I can out-alpha most of them, so they toe the line when I ask.”

“I didn't know that,” Tony said, his surprise evident. “How do you?”

Letting out a soft sigh, Gibbs pummeled his brain into gear. This was a good segue into what he'd meant to tell Tony last night. “Paul told me,” he said.

“And Paul is?” Tony asked, waving his hand in an encouraging motion.

“Paul Sheffield, first shifter I ever met. Well, first one I learned was a shifter.” Gibbs smiled a bit at the memories. “He was my bunk mate in basic, fresh off the midwest farm that his father's pack ran. He wanted out and must have seen a kindred spirit in me. Misinterpreted a bit and had a hell of a time trying to back peddle when I looked confused. He was so used to the alphas being shifters, he thought I was one.”

“He grew up surrounded just by pack?” Tony asked curiously.

“Not completely, but he'd never realized that some pack traits were human traits too,” Gibbs offered.

“Like having an alpha personality,” Tony said, nodding.

“Exactly. He tried to cover it up, but after a few weeks watching, he realized he could spot the other three shifters in basic just by how they reacted to me. Decided he'd better explain, so I'd understand what was going on in the future. I ended up token alpha in a lot of places.”

“I always figured the officers filled that role in the military.”

“Most of the time,” Gibbs said with a shrug. “But, as Paul said, some people are born alpha, some learn it, and some are destined to follow. Same is true of officers as enlisted, humans or shifters.”

Tony nodded. “Sounds like something my mother used to say. So you'd end up in nominal charge a lot?”

Gibbs chuckled. “In charge was part of it. Drove the drill sergeants crazy sometimes, the way some of the recruits would only follow orders after checking with me. Learned to sort that out with orders in advance. Learned to sort a lot of things out, especially after Paul and I were nearly caught by the MPs.”

“You two were ...” Tony tried to ask, his tone hesitant. 

“Just friends screwing around,” Gibbs said nonchalantly. Yeah, he usually discouraged that kind of question, but Tony deserved to know. “He explained about the system in place, gave me the contact info for future reference. If I was going to attract shifters, I'd better know how to take care of them.”

“A good alpha always takes care of his pack first,” Tony said firmly. 

Gibbs smiled. “Exactly. Met a few alphas, shifter and human, over the years who could use to learn that. But I did my best.”

“Though I'm surprised you were ... willing to go there. I mean, that day and age, a small town upbringing ...” Tony said, his meaning plain from his tone. “I figured you explored later, since obviously you weren't shy with me, but so quick ...”

“Oh, I knew I could go either way from a young age,” Gibbs admitted, frustration and anger coloring his words. It hadn't been easy realizing how poorly others took his interests. His father had always been supportive, but there had been some very negative interactions with some of his age mates. “Paul had more trouble convincing me we weren't going to get beaten to shit than convincing me to sleep with him.”

“Trouble back home?” Tony asked wryly.

“Something like that,” Gibbs said, glossing the matter over. He'd talk about packs, shifters, and Shannon, but he did not want to even think about Chuck and Ed, let alone discuss them. He didn't owe Tony that much. “Paul also explained pack politics and mating.” Gibbs' voice dropped at the last words, his eyes downcast.

“So ... you knew exactly what you were offering that night?” Tony asked, his voice pained.

Gibbs nodded, his eyes shut tight. 

“Then why ...?” Tony's voice cut off, overwhelmed by emotion. 

Gibbs glanced up and saw the same anger and pain that filled his second last night. “There was a pack in my hometown,” he said, hoping Tony would allow the seeming topic change. There was a point, he just didn't quite know how to get there.

“Stillwater, Pennsylvania,” Tony added flatly. He was frustrated but going along.

“You've been digging,” Gibbs said, not quite sure what to make of that.

“After you left ... I was trying to make sense of what happened,” Tony said hesitantly. The anger did not fade from his eyes. “You kept a lot of secrets close to your vest.”

“I did ... I do,” Gibbs admitted. And boy, did he regret that now. “I didn't know about them, not as a kid. They kept to themselves a lot. But there was this redhead ... oh, I fell for her early, though I never actually spoke to her until the end of my first leave. I was just out of basic, came home to check on Dad, and there she was at the train station, heading out the same time as me.”

“Shannon?” Tony asked, hesitantly.

“Shannon,” Gibbs said with a soft laugh, lost in memories of better times. “She told me she didn't date lumberjacks, but I was military, so we could talk. She was off to see the world, or something of it beyond the confines of Stillwater and her pack, not that she told me exactly that, not then. Took another two years of dancing around to find out she was a shifter, and four more after that before we settled down.” He refocused his eyes and caught the pained and pensive look on Tony's face, which weakened the smile on his lips. He hated hurting Tony. It wasn't what he intended to do today.

“Do you know how I finally found out?” he asked playfully, trying to knock Tony out of his negative mindset. “Paul and I had leave together, and we went out to dinner with Shannon. He about flipped, whispered to me that there was something about her that screamed alpha and shifter louder than me. And she heard him. She always did have sharp hearing, even for a shifter.”

“Sounds like a perfect match for you, boss,” Tony said, a sad smile crossing his face.

“She was,” Gibbs agreed. “She had the same effect on every other shifter I brought home in the years we were together. It only got worse when we gave into the inevitable and became mates.”

“I've heard that mating can amplify certain tenancies,” Tony said thoughtfully, then shrugged. “But I've never seen it myself.”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, not quite ready to disagree verbally. Tony had just been too far on the inside to see the changes their being together had wrought. “I think it was more the sense of 'hurt one, hurt all of us' that we exuded. Add in that we were both strong alphas ...”

“I can't imagine you being a stronger alpha than you are,” Tony admitted wryly.

Gibbs shrugged. “It's not something I've ever been able to track, really. We just made for a power block that made a lot of people uneasy. I think her pack saw that possibility in her and tried to head it off. She ran rather than mate with the milk-sop they had lined up, swore there was no way she was marrying a boy from back home.” Gibbs paused to laugh a moment. “That was part of why we danced around each other so long, I was from back home.”

“But you weren't pack,” Tony pointed out. He was almost smiling.

“The saving grace that finally allowed her to give in,” Gibbs said with a shrug. “But that wasn't the point of this story.”

“Then what was?” Tony asked, his shoulders shifting uneasily and the hint of smile fading from his lips.

“When I woke up from that coma, all I felt was loss,” Gibb said, trying to hold onto the happy feeling from a moment before. Thinking about that time, about Shannon's death, still tended to drag him down into depression faster than you could blink. “As far as I could remember, I had just lost my mate, my cub. I was drowning in guilt. If I'd been home instead of off in the Gulf, that bastard would never have gotten close to them.”

“Boss, I read the accident report,” Tony cut in. “There's nothing you could have done. If you'd been there you would have died too.”

“If I'd been there, they never would have been in that car,” Gibbs snapped. “That damned drug dealer was looking for a woman and her daughter, not a man and his dogs.”

Tony's eyes lit up in comprehension. “Oh ... that might have worked ... Damn, boss, I'm so sorry.”

“I was so confused, both fifteen years ago and last summer,” Gibbs said with a pained sigh. “I admit, I ran. I couldn't take it anymore. Everyone was looking at me with all these expectations, and I didn't know what to do, how to act. After those idiots on the hill let those men die ...”

“That part I think I understand,” Tony said, his eyes dark and yet understanding. His second didn't like losing either.

“For four months, all I did was hide from those feelings of loss and guilt. Being with Franks was ... distantly familiar. I at least remembered most of my time with him.” Gibbs shrugged, fiddling with his coffee cup, empty though it was. “I knew something was missing, but since Shannon and Kelly were dead, the reason seemed obvious.” He snorted angrily. “I was an idiot.”

“You didn't remember,” Tony offered, somewhat apologetically.

“I did,” Gibbs snapped, but at himself. “And I didn't. I remembered wolves under the boat, and companionship, all the similarities between you and Shannon. I was so busy hiding, I didn't realize there were two people connected to those memories and feelings. I was so busy missing her, I didn't realize I was also missing you.”

Tony was frozen, looking stunned. Gibbs didn't blame him. He'd about pitched himself down the stairs when he'd realized just what he'd done. He'd abandoned his mate as well as his team. It was against his every instinct, and he hadn't even realized what he was doing at the time.

“Damn, Tony, I am so sorry,” Gibbs blurted, breaking his own vaunted rule, one he was still trying to make sense of again.

“God, boss,” Tony croaked, covering his face with his hands and rubbing vigorously. “Why now?”

“Because you finally pushed me to make the connection,” Gibbs said, resting his hand on Tony's knee. He waited to see if the younger man would shrug him off or push him away, but Tony didn't seem to notice.

“I missed you so much,” Tony said, his eyes bright with tears where they were visible between his fingers.

“Missed you too,” Gibbs offered softly. “Just didn't realize it 'til now.”

“I don't know if I can do this again,” Tony said, shaking his head, his voice breaking. “I thought I was going to break when I realized you were gone.”

“I told you already that I don't think I have another explosion in me,” Gibbs said, trying for a lighter tone. Tony let out a shaky sob that seemed to indicate he'd failed. “And if I lose my memory, you have my permission, no, I order you to come talk some sense into me before I do something so stupid again. Mate or second, that is your responsibility.”

“Duly noted, boss,” Tony said but without any of the peace or joy Gibbs had hoped to engender.

“Or you ...” Gibbs trailed off, struggling to breath, to speak. He didn't want to suggest it, but Tony had the right. He'd fucked up, and if Tony chose ... well, he had no right to complain. “You can repudiate me,” he whispered hoarsely. “It's your right. I won't let it affect your standing, not at work, not in the pack.”

Tony's head snapped up, his hands fell to his lap, his eyes were wide with shock. “No,” he cried, the word wrenched from him. “It's not ... I can't ... I thought you had ...”

“Never,” Gibbs hissed. He squeezed the shifter's knee firmly, trying to project calm and comfort through that touch even when he was spinning inside with his own fear and panic. “It was, and is, always your choice. I just ... had to say. Think about it. Don't decide now.”

Tony swallowed hard and leaned his head back against the shelf behind him. “I'm not ready to make such a final choice,” he whispered, tears glinting around the lashes of his closed eyes. “You've just told me so much ... I don't know how to even think now.”

“It's all right, Tony,” Gibbs said reassuringly. “Take the time to think things through this time.”

“It's not that ... not just that,” Tony said, his voice stumbling. “You left me ... I thought you didn't mean it before, that it was over. I tried to move on ... Had to to keep from breaking. Um, I found someone. I don't know where it's going, but it's not fair to her to just walk away ...”

“Ah, Tony,” Gibbs breathed, stroking his hand along the younger man's thigh. He could feel his heart stutter in shock. It hurt, to hear he might have been replaced. He wanted to growl, to yell that Tony was his, but he couldn't. He had been the one to walk away, whether he remembered what he was walking away from or not. It was Tony's decision to repudiate him or take him back. All he could do was be supportive and pray. “Then don't,” he offered. “I'll step back. If it falls through, I'm here. If you decide ... if she suits you better, then I'll stand up for you at the wedding. I'm the selfish old man who never gave you a chance to say no.”

Tony snorted harshly but wrapped his hand around Gibbs' and interlocked their fingers. “I could have said no. Didn't want to.”

“But was it the best choice?” Gibbs asked, hating himself for even saying the words. Tony didn't answer, just swallowed hard. Maybe there was no answer. “Just ... I want you to be happy.”

“I thought you liked berating me and slapping me on the back of the head,” Tony said sarcastically.

“Makes you feel wanted, doesn't it?” Gibbs countered warmly, running his thumb along the side of Tony's hand.

Tony didn't reply, only shook his head. But when he opened his eyes again, there was warmth in them instead of the fear and anger that had haunted them before. “You'll give me some time?” Tony asked, catching Gibbs' eye.

“It's the least I owe you,” Gibbs said depreciatingly. “I rushed you into this in the first place ... I should have told you about Shannon ... about Kelly.”

“Yes, you should have,” Tony replied firmly, anger lines furrowing his face for a moment, but they quickly smoothed away again. “But I also understand. You'd been hiding them for so long.”

“I never told anyone ... if they didn't know from before, I never said a word,” Gibbs admitted. 

“None of your wives?” Tony asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Wives, girlfriends, Ducky, nada, zip, zilch.” At first, he couldn't stand thinking of sharing them, horded even their memories close to his heart. In time, it became habit, then tradition, and he just couldn't seem to break free. In that, the explosion, his amnesia, had done him a favor. He might still have some fences to mend, but it was good to be able to share those he loved with others, at least a little. 

“It's funny, I spent fifteen years looking for someone to fill Shannon's place by my side, married three women who looked like her, dated more, and never came close to getting it right.” He hoped that just maybe, Tony would catch what he wasn't saying, couldn't say since he'd promised to step back. Tony was the closest match. He figured it out working on the boat last night, all these years he'd been picking up wives, but what he'd wanted was a mate. Someone who didn't know shifters, hadn't lived with them might not get the difference, but to Gibbs there was a huge difference and it had been tearing him apart for over a decade.

Tony didn't say a word, just sat there, staring into Gibbs' eyes like he was looking for something in their depths. He looked like he could sit there forever, just looking, and on some level it terrified Gibbs. He didn't know what Tony was looking for, or if it was there. And if it wasn't there, then what chance did he have of hanging on to the man he wanted, the man he'd called mate?

For once it was Gibbs who took the coward's way out, breaking the silence and looking away. “You have any plans for the rest of today?” he asked, glancing at Tony's legs, where their joined hands still rested. He tried to convince himself it was just because shifters needed a lot of physical contact, not read it as a sign of something more lest he drive himself insane with longing.

“No ... well, Abby and I were talking about hitting a marathon of the Alien movies this afternoon.” Tony shrugged and wiggled his fingers, shaking their hands gently apart.

“Any good?” Gibbs asked, trying to convince himself it was a good idea to let go.

“Really, Gibbs, they're classics. One of these days we really have to do something about your movie education.” Tony's clever fingers stroked lightly along Gibbs' palm, soothingly, and with a sigh Gibbs finally let go.

“All right, how about we start today?” Gibbs offered, finally looking his second in the eye again.

“Umm ...” Tony looked flustered, and probably reasonably so. In their nine months as mates, he'd never convinced Gibbs to watch a single movie with him, let alone go out to one with Abby. Gibbs regretted that refusal more than he could express. “Well.” Tony glanced at his watch. “It starts in half an hour, and the theater is at least that far from here.”

Gibbs smirked and stood, stretching slightly after sitting for so long. Maybe he should replace that old chair. “If I drive that leaves me ten minutes to shower first,” he said, striding towards the stairs. He wasn't going out without getting rid of the sawdust embedded in his pores after sleeping in the basement. 

“Not entirely a good thing, boss,” Tony muttered under his breath, his face paling slightly, but Gibbs ignored it. “You sure, boss?” Tony asked louder, following Gibbs' lead up the stairs.

“Why not, DiNozzo?” Gibbs said nonchalantly. “I've got four months of time I missed with my pack to catch up on.” He glanced over his shoulder and grinned. “Deal with the food before I get back, will you?” he called as he strode into the kitchen with a bounce in his step that had been missing for over four months. He might not have his mate back, but he had his second, and just knowing that made the world seem to click back into place.


End file.
